


perfect lovers quarrel

by mybelovedcheshire



Series: La Maison de l'ABC [4]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, blasphemy etc, discussion of religion, the cutest boys ever fighting D:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/pseuds/mybelovedcheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan and Courfeyrac never fight. They just don't. </p><p>Until now, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	perfect lovers quarrel

Jehan padded through the kitchen after the sound of Courfeyrac’s voice.

There were so many delightful things about his love. Intangible, wonderful, admirable things that he cherished in the deepest part of his heart. But there were little physical quirks that made him giddy, too -- and Courfeyrac’s loud, gleeful tone was one.

He could be heard anywhere. He was born to talk.

Courfeyrac, Joly, and Bossuet had stowed away in the smaller sitting room. They were laughing when Jehan poked his head around the corner, and they kept laughing as he pounced on his darling.

Courfeyrac automatically slid his arms around Jehan’s waist and pulled the little poet into his lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Joly and Bossuet smiled.

Jehan was grateful for that. He made a small, happy hum as he tucked his head under Courfeyrac’s chin.

While Courfeyrac was beyond ridiculously awful at keeping his hands to himself in any context, Jehan at least made some effort not to be obscenely physical in front of their other housemates. But it never mattered with Joly and Bossuet. They were handsy themselves -- though obviously not to the extent that Courfeyrac was (Courfeyrac made the security guards at the airport seem chaste) -- and they didn’t mind in the slightest.

Which was good, because Courfeyrac very deliberately and unashamedly had one hand on Jehan’s ass.

Jehan all but purred.

Courfeyrac kept talking. “I just think they’d be more realistic without noses.”

Bossuet snorted. Joly couldn’t contain his grin. “Why?”

“Who would take a god with no nose seriously?” Courfeyrac answered.

“Don’t forget those creepy cherubs on the sides of the newer churches,” Bossuet mentioned.

“What the hell is the point of that, anyway? What happened to gargoyles?”

“Maybe they were frightening the acolytes,” Joly answered.

They all burst out laughing again.

Courfeyrac leaned back, tugging Jehan with him. “It’s a physical cartoon.”

Jehan pulled his feet up and tucked his toes in between the cushions. “What is?”

“Religious statuary,” Courfeyrac answered.

Jehan blinked.

Bossuet hadn’t stopped laughing as he added: “Just think of the Pope--” He adopted the most pretentious accent he could manage. “No, no, no. Put the St. Michael next to my potted roses. I need the Virgin Mary in the light by the lillies-- Like he’s planning his garden!” Joly looked like he might cry from the stitch in his side.

Courfeyrac cackled.

Jehan wondered what the joke was -- because he’d obviously missed it. 

“The castration was just cruel, but it makes you wonder. Do they have a box of marble dicks just sitting in the Catacombs?”

“Probably,” Joly replied.

“/God/ only knows what they do with them,” Bossuet smirked.

Courfeyrac snorted.

Joly rubbed Bossuet’s leg in an idle, comfortable gesture. “What’s the one with the handprints all over her breasts?”

Courfeyrac gasped. “CAN YOU IMAGINE?”

Bossuet almost sobbed. “If they let you loose in the Vatican.”

“Or anywhere in Greece,” Joly added. “It takes a while to damage them though.”

Courfeyrac gave him the most devilish smile. “Is that a challenge?”

“Don’t--” Bossuet said to Joly. “If anyone could do it, he could.”

“And I /should/.”

“I’m lost!” Jehan mewed. Courfeyrac kissed his temple.

“Courfeyrac wants to leave his mark on the Virgin Mary,” Bossuet told him. Courfeyrac snickered wickedly.

“And he wants to collect the noses of the whole Pantheon.”

“I just want to do the world a favour,” Courfeyrac told them with dramatic false modesty.

Jehan pushed himself upright. “A favour?”

Courfeyrac rested his hands on Jehan’s hips. “Yeah-- I can remind everyone that even gods can be defiled.” He grinned.

Jehan frowned.

Courfeyrac’s grin faltered.

“Courf, that’s--.. a bit much.”

Courfeyrac gave a half-laugh. “Come on, Jehan. Are you really defending the church?”

“No, but you’re not insulting the church.”

Joly and Bossuet exchanged wary glances.

Courfeyrac managed to hold on to his smile -- but there was disbelief in his expression. “Statues of the Virgin Mary?” He asked. “It’s everything that’s wrong with the church.”

“It’s a symbol of faith, not the hierarchy.”

“Jehan,” Courfeyrac repeated almost . “You’re not serious?”

Jehan leaned away from him. “I am.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes softened. He settled into the couch and fixed his eyes on Jehan. He kept his hands on his little poet’s hips. “Religion is bad to begin with. The iconography only fetters the sheep.”

Jehan blinked.

Courfeyrac didn’t look away.

“I’m not a sheep, Courfeyrac,” Jehan told him quietly.

Courfeyrac’s mouth opened slightly.

“They’re symbols,” Jehan continued. “It’s not like they’re precious because they’re made of gold.”

“Some are, actually,” Joly observed.

Bossuet reached over and put his hand over Joly’s mouth.

“They’re representations of something completely corrupting. Faith is a lie built to keep people in check! The greek gods never existed, and a Christian one doesn’t either-- you can’t protect the symbols when the symbols are the problem.”

Jehan’s mouth had set in a stern, unhappy line.

Courfeyrac didn’t look nearly as amused. There was a puppyish lack of understanding in the way he stared at Jehan.

“It’s not the iconography that’s the problem,” Jehan insisted. “They stand for basic values like faith, and hope -- there’s nothing corrupt in that. People are corrupt.”

“People are naive! Statues of gods and saints are just distractions.”

“They’re physical representations of human concerns.”

Courfeyrac huffed. He didn’t like this -- he’d never argued with Jehan before, and he didn’t want to start now.

Jehan teetered on Courfeyrac’s knees.

“They’re inseparable from the oppressive system,” Courfeyrac tried to explain.

“They’re not sentient-- the meaning isn’t inherent. You’d be the corruptor if you vandalised them!”

“They’re already corrupt. The Virgin Mary is a religious icon!”

Jehan slid out of Courfeyrac’s lap and stood up. “Religion isn’t evil.”

“Religion is the epitome of evil!”

“Napoleon was an atheist!”

While they were arguing, Bossuet had all but crawled behind Joly who was doing his best to be comforting. Jehan and Courfeyrac didn’t fight. They just didn’t. They didn’t even disagree, really.

Which made this terrifying.

A very large part of Courfeyrac wanted to get up and hug Jehan and apologise and never bring the topic up again.

But the louder, more adamant, and indignant side of him refused to back down. He folded his arms over his chest.

Jehan wore a stony but intrepid expression.

Courfeyrac couldn’t stop himself. “Organised religion is tyranny.”

“Tyranny is tyranny,” Jehan answered. He was quiet but unyielding. “Tyrants abuse religion. Religion is intrinsically human.”

“It’s not intrinsic to me,” Courfeyrac retorted dismissively. “I think God is a shiny myth that distracts people from reality.”

Jehan paused. Courfeyrac frowned.

When Jehan lifted his chin, his voice was strong and his tone was fearless. It didn’t matter that he was talking to Courfeyrac -- it didn’t matter that he was surrounded by people whose friendship meant the world to him. They disagreed with him.

But he stood by his beliefs.

***

Enjolras sat back with his hands folded in his lap as Courfeyrac paced in front of him.

“It’s just-- of all the things to get upset about it?” Courfeyrac demanded. “We joke about this all the time!”

“Not with Jehan,” Enjolras reminded him.

Courfeyrac faltered and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

Enjolras sighed silently.

***

Combeferre ran his fingers through Jehan’s hair. The little poet had curled up somewhat sullenly in Combeferre’s lap about half an hour ago and hadn’t moved much since. Every so often he would dictate a line or two to Combeferre, who scribbled it down in a notebook balanced on his knee.

Jehan hadn’t explained anything, but Combeferre had a strange gift for reading his friends. After a long silence, he gently asked: “Could you forgive him?”

Jehan nuzzled his face against Combeferre’s leg and murmured: “Always.”

***

Courfeyrac emerged from Enjolras’s room several hours later (at Enjolras’s insistence). His expression was a bit sad, and terribly pouty as he dragged his feet into the hallway.

Jehan stepped out of Combeferre’s room half a minute later. His hair was neatly brushed and braided, and he looked content, if unhappy.

Courfeyrac looked up.

Jehan held his gaze.

Very suddenly, Courfeyrac whirled around and shouted into Enjolras’s room. “YOU WERE TEXTING COMBEFERRE THIS WHOLE TIME.”

Enjolras’s expression was shockingly innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“YOU HAG.” Courfeyrac huffed indignantly. “Thank you.”

Enjolras smiled.

[text] Enjolras: Good timing.  
[text] Combeferre: Thanks. Think they’ll be okay?

Courfeyrac looked back at Jehan. Jehan impassively stared at the floor.

“Hey,” Courfeyrac called out softly.

Jehan’s eyes flicked up to his face.

“I wanna apologise...”

“Courf--”

“With blowjobs.”

Jehan froze.

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose. Enjolras snorted.

“Right here and now, if you want,” Courfeyrac told him. Jehan grinned.

“No,” Combeferre said immediately.

“GO UPSTAIRS,” Enjolras yelled.

Courfeyrac stepped into the hallway and held out his hand. Jehan shuffled forward and took it.

They sprinted up the staircase together.

 

[text] Enjolras: They’re going to be fine.


End file.
